The Woman that Changed Things
by I. H. Scribe
Summary: In an attempt to warn his family, and hopefully prevent several deaths, Harry Potter uses a ritual to send his biography back in time to his mother. Only he messes up, and Petunia ends up with them instead. (Not a Read-the-Books-Together type story)


Fandoms: Harry Potter

Characters: Petunia Dursley

Prompt: While Petunia Dursley was pregnant with Dudley, she came upon a series of books titled "Harry Potter." When a small baby boy appeared on her doorstep one 2nd of November, she realizes just how abnormal she might seem if she acts the way she wants to. How would this foreknowledge of a relatively minor character change the series? Would she even care that she's meddling with time?

Prompt Made By: Lassy D

Disclaimer: I don't own the following series(es) or any character(s) that follow, and unless _I. H. Scribe_ is listed after _Prompt Made By_ chances are I don't own the idea for this story either.

* * *

"So how does this work?" Dudley asked. "Isn't changing the past, I dunno, illegal or something?"

"Technically, we're not changing the past," Harry said. "Our universe will continue on as it is. The moment the books return to the past, in becomes another universe entirely. Hopefully, my parents will be able to use these to save people from dying. It's got all the information they need to win the war against Voldemort."

"Why do you need me to do it?"

"I need blood. Specifically, my mother's blood," Harry said. "I'll be providing most of it, but I need some from you too to pinpoint my mother in the past."

"And this will work?"

"I got three Ravenclaws and Hermione to help me make the ritual," Harry said. When Dudley looked confused, he clarified, "It'll work."

"Okay then."

* * *

The funny thing about ritual magic is that no one, not Hermione Granger, not a Ravenclaw, not even Rowena Ravenclaw herself, could successfully predict the outcome of a ritual. Hermione had said blood from two different people that shared blood with the target were needed.

Had Harry gone to Petunia, she would have gladly given some blood, if only to spare another universe's version of her from being saddled with Harry. Harry didn't know that. He also didn't know that if he had used Petunia's blood, she would have been excluded from being the target.

Instead, Harry went to Dudley, because they had struck up a tentative friendship after the war had ended. While the ritual would work, it wouldn't work the way Harry had wanted. Harry's blood may have had the power the ritual needed, but Dudley's was older – Dudley having been born first – and so, instead of locking on to a pregnant Lily Potter, the ritual locked on to a pregnant Petunia Dursley.

* * *

Petunia Dursley almost dropped the teapot when she turned around. There, sitting innocently on her kitchen table, were seven books that had most certainly not been there when she turned her back on the table only moments ago.

She approached the books cautiously. Growing up with a witch for a sister had made her extremely wary of anything strange happening, especially since Lily's last letter had indicated they were in the middle of a war.

Along the sides of the spines were the book titles, all beginning with _Harry Potter and the_. Petunia poked the book on the top of the pile with the edge of the teapot. When nothing happened, she lifted it up.

"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," she murmured. "What on earth is this?" Petunia went about fixing herself a cup of tea, then settled into one of the more comfortable chairs in the living room and opened the book to the first chapter.

"Chapter One. The Boy Who Lived," she read. "Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much." Oh, she liked this book already.

* * *

Petunia finished reading all the books before her husband Vernon came home from work. She locked them in the cupboard under the stairs – where he never went – and then stared at the walls of the cupboard, spotting three spiders in the corner and shivered.

She didn't know why the character named after her had let a small child grow up in the cupboard, but it certainly wouldn't happen to her. Those books must have been a cruel joke. Yes, that was it a joke – a prank – probably by that prat of a Potter her sister had married.

Why on earth would she ever name her son _Dudley_ of all things anyway?"

* * *

"Dudley's a fine name," Vernon argued. "It was my great-grandfather's name."

"Anthony's a fine name as well," Petunia said, chopping the vegetables on the cutting board. "And it was my grandfather's name"

"Us Dursley's have had the same four names since the beginning."

"Yes, well Anthony Dudley sounds better than Dudley Anthony," Petunia said, making a particularly noisy chop, while glaring at her husband.

Vernon thought Dudley Anthony sounded better, but suddenly recalled the men at his work discussing how bad their wives' moods got during pregnancy because of the hormones, and paid close attention to the very large knife in Petunia's hand.

Instead of continuing the argument, Vernon went with the traditional henpecked husband response of, "Yes, dear." Petunia nodded sharply, and then returned to chopping the vegetables. Vernon would try again later, when Petunia didn't have such easy access to sharp objects.

* * *

Petunia steadfastly ignored the strange happenings on the morning after Halloween until Vernon had left for work. She spotted the cat mentioned in the books. It was time to see if those books were true. She wrapped herself in her in a coat and made her way over to the cat.

"Professor McGonagall, we need to talk," Petunia said. The cat stared at her. She stared back. Just when she was starting to feel stupid for believing those books, the cat jumped down from the wall, transforming into a woman mid-jump.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dursley."

"Good morning, Professor," Petunia replied. "If you would follow me please, I'll make us a cup of tea."

"I wouldn't say no to bit of scotch if you have it," McGonagall said, following her into the house.

"I believe Vernon has some in the basement. I'll go and get it."

After preparing their tea, and a glass of scotch for Professor McGonagall, Petunia collected the books from the cupboard, and set them on the table.

"Is my sister dead?"

"Yes."

"You're headmaster intends to leave her son here?"

"Yes."

"I was afraid of that. I received these just over a year ago. I've changed what I could already, but I will not allow that boy to stay here if this is all that awaits him."

Petunia sipped her tea as Professor McGonagall read through the books. Watching as the woman went through various emotional states – from wistful to annoyed to happy to angry and everything in between – was amusing. McGonagall read through them quicker than she had, and then stood up.

"If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Dursley, I have several things I have to do, people I have to warn, and old men I have to berate. If you would, please, take in your nephew for a few days in the event that Albus leaves him here. He will be removed from your care shortly."

"Thank you. I will, but for no longer than a week, and then I'm sending him to an orphanage. I refuse to have my family turn into the monsters portrayed in the books."

* * *

Harry did end up on her doorstep; she had stayed up that night and peeked out the window at the doorstep every ten or fifteen minutes. Petunia wasn't sure what Dumbledore had been thinking, leaving a toddler that could probably walk on a doorstep when it had been particularly cold the last week and a half.

It was four days into the week deadline that she gave McGonagall when someone finally came for the boy. Sirius Black, her brother-in-law's best friend stood at her door. She ushered him inside, and led him to the living room.

"Sit," Petunia said, gesturing to the couch. Sirius frowned.

"Petunia, I'm only here for Harry, not for-"

"I said, _sit_," Petunia repeated.

When Sirius had first met Petunia, he had doubts that she and Lily were actually sisters; they were as different from each other as it was possible for two people of the same gender to be. But now, that look on Petunia's face, Sirius had seen it before – it was the same look he had seen on Lily's face only weeks ago – the one that said 'Do what I say or I'll curse your bits off.'

Sirius didn't care if Petunia didn't have any magic. That look was terrifying.

He sat down.

Petunia eyed him sharply, before pulling seven books out of the cupboard under the stairs, and placing them on the end table next to him. "Read them. When you're done, you can take the boy, and the books, and leave. I suggest you finish before my husband gets home this evening."

* * *

Petunia ignored the obvious tear tracks on Sirius' face, handing over her nephew to his godfather. "Do you know how to feed him? How to change a diaper? How to-?"

"Lily taught me how when she taught James," Sirius interrupted her.

"I expect I won't be seeing the two of you again. Take care of my nephew, or your face my wrath in life, and my sister's in death."

Sirius would never admit to practically running out of the house. Though they had never met, Vernon Dursley and Sirius Black shared one very simple thing – a healthy dose of fear of facing Petunia Dursley's wrath.

* * *

Sirius Black may not have been the smartest member of the Black Family – that honor went to Andromeda before she was disowned, and Regulus after – but he wasn't the stupidest either. After tracking down Moony, he and Remus made copies of all the books, and sent out a set of copies to each Albus Dumbledore, Amelia Bones, Barty Crouch Sr., Minister Bagnold, and the head goblin Ragnok.

Harry Potter, rather than growing up unloved in the Dursley household, would be raised alongside his future best friends Neville Longbottom, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and when Remus finally managed to track down her family, Hermione Granger. Each of their parents also got a copy of the books.

By the time Harry and his friends (including Luna and Ginny who had gained early admittance) entered Hogwarts to be sorted, Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been dealt with for years.

* * *

As always, I am accepting prompts, however, I am not accepting prompts through reviews. If you wish to give me a prompt, please see the Accepting Prompts section of my profile for instructions. Thank you.

I. H. Scribe


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